


The Adama Family Takes a Break

by fragrantwoods



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: Angsty Schmoop, BDSM, Community: bsg_kink, Dominance, F/M, Mindfuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-30
Updated: 2015-06-30
Packaged: 2018-04-07 00:50:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4243182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fragrantwoods/pseuds/fragrantwoods
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For BSG-Kink's theme: imagine your favorites acting out a fateful romance trope and getting kinky while doing it. Prompt: Bill/Laura, god couple</p><p>Bill and Laura process Bill's drug-assisted interrogation of Gaius Baltar after they return to his quarters.<br/>Title is a riff on The Addams Family (1991) and a memorable conversation between Morticia and Gomez</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Adama Family Takes a Break

It felt more confined here, more than her quarters (and a lot more than the clinical openness of the sickbay beds).   
  
It felt comforting, like the man sitting at her feet. A paradox, after what she’d seen tonight.  _Did we do that because we had to? Or because we could?_  
  
His hand covered hers where it rested on her thigh. She stared at them, turning their power over in her mind. Most of the time, she saw herself—saw both of them—as servants of the Fleet, of the people. Then there were times like these, when she realized what they could really do, if they chose to. 

  
Assassinate an admiral.   
  
Blow a ship and a thousand souls to dust.   
  
Drive a brilliant mind mad.   
  
They stopped in time, or found their reasons, justified their decisions in their eyes and the eyes of others…but she knew they didn’t have to. They chose to, because they were good people, righteous leaders…  
  
_But they didn’t **have**  to._  
  
Maybe it was the second glass of whiskey talking, but the sweet romance of them burned away in the tight space of his rack. A rush of lust spiked through her as he talked of guilt, of the shame he felt in what they’d done tonight.   
  
What he’d done, so very, very well.   
  
“Bill?” she interrupted.   
  
“Yeah?” He’d begun stroking under the hem of her skirt, and she wondered if he even realized.   
  
“When you were questioning Baltar—“the heat hit her again, and her hips twitched upward, an involuntary reaching. “When you were interrogating Baltar,” she continued, “I’ve never seen anyone manipulate another person like that. You were ruthless, inflicting so much pain, then offering him comfort…it was like he was terrified of you and needed you so much, all at the same time.”   
  
His face reddened. She wondered if it was his memory…or her legs opening slightly under his hands. If he started talking, the moment would be lost, and she wanted this heat. Soon, it wouldn’t be an option. She quieted him with her fingers over his lips, giving him her most knowing, suggestive smile. 

“You were like an animal, a predator toying with his prey. You could have done anything you wanted to him, and he was absolutely, totally helpless. You frightened me.” Her voice turned breathy, and when he started at the wetness he found between her thighs, then smiled, she knew the pieces were falling into place.   
  
“Bill?” A question this time.  
  
“Yeah.” An agreement, an offer accepted.   
  
“Do that to me.”   
  
Oh, frak, there was that decency, going to war with that earthy, primal part of him. The guilty slump of his shoulders, the rising erection against her palm when she reached for him there.   
  
“Laura…I don’t think—I couldn’t—“ She squeezed him hard, stemming his denial. Nothing in the universe was more tantalizing right now that imagining him taking her to a helpless, needful place, then bringing her back out to safety. She’d think about what that meant later, if she was trying to reframe New Caprica…but right now, she wanted that part of him so bad it was making her shake.   
  
“Give it your best shot, Admiral.” She stroked his cheek, softening the taunt.   
  
“Do what I say, or it’s the airlock, woman.” He stifled a grin as he started stripping off his tunic.   
  
“That’s not your best shot,” she said, biting back a giggle as she shimmied out of her skirt.   
  
Then his face was over hers, blue eyes almost black with heat. Any doubts he could get into this were blasted away and a delicious frisson of fear sparked a low, luscious fire.   
  
“Your ass is mine tonight, Roslin, whether you like it or not.”   
  
She was melting, opening, falling into everything he offered…the loss of control, the giving up, the safe haven at the end.   
  
“Much better,” she said, humming deep in her throat.  
  
He rumbled rough words, threatening, promising, as she moved towards his light.   



End file.
